Through the Looking Glass
by purple'n'daisy
Summary: Insecurities got the better of them, and apparently so did love.
1. Sweet Shadows

Mind you, I'm a little slow on updating, so don't pin me with the pitch forks... I'm trying to get all the little facts right in my story, making sure everything is adding up, which of right now it is.

So let's starts, shall we...

This chapter begins after Lady Heather's Box. And no, I can't exactly tell you what will happen, or who will end up with who. That in fact would just ruin the surprise.

And these chapters have to be the longest I've written in my living... Okay, enough of my babbling... on with the story.

-----

Chapter One: Sweet Shadows

Time had already fallen to the morning light, as Gil and Sarah stopped in front of Catherine Willow's house. And both had already analyzed over the house, such as the left markings of a child's chalk drawings on the driveway; three drawn flowers in a vase, the name Lindsay designed in a bubbly form, and outlined with bright green chalk, with the letters filled in yellow.

Sara scanned over the drawings and noticed they weren't faded--so they must be recent-- like a day or two old. "Lindsey's pretty good" She pointed to the drawn vase and flowers, before stepping forward a few steps. Grissom stopped and looked back to examine the pictures, and nodded before continuing on to the front door.

Once they got up there, they passed a red bike that sat against the side of the house, as they walked up the stairs. The door was mahogany colored, and had a colored glass window.

Grissom exchanged looks with Sara. "Has she always had this?" He asked as he pointed directly to the colored glass in the middle of the door.

Sara shrugged. How could she remember? She hadn't been here in ages-- and already things looked different-- more than she could recall right now. "Don't remember" She called back, while they stood there for a moment, before he turned back towards the door, gave a small 'hmm...' and shrugged his question of mind.

A moment later he raised his hand and gave a small knock, then another before putting his hand back down to his side.  
---

Sprawled across the white flowered couch laid Catherine, who wore an olive green t-shirt and white pajama bottoms. And next to her stirred her daughter Lindsey, who wore a pink tank top with matching pants.

"Mmm..." She groaned softly, as she turned sleepily onto her right side-- making her mother stir slightly at her movement, but not enough to wake her up-- which allowed both to start falling asleep again.

That is until Lindsey heard another similar noise a few minutes later-- and she moved off the couch, without waking her mother and headed sleepily to the closed door of the living room, before slipping out quietly, and closing the door behind her.

Lindsey looked around still quite dazed until she saw what could be the source of the noise and as she looked over at the door and saw two figures waiting patiently at the door. She perked up slightly as she rubbed at her left eye, and headed towards the door--unlocked it quickly and pulled it open.

She pressed her lips tightly together, as she exhaled. At this time she was not either expecting nor was she exactly delighted to see them again. Lindsey griped the frame of the door tightly, her eyes moving back and forth between Sara and Gil. 

"Lindsey" Gil greeted mildly, noting the look on her face, and pressed himself to continue talking. "Your mom around?"

"No" She shook her head quickly, as she rubbed her thumb over the smooth side of the door, and gazed up at them with a catching look in her eyes.

---

Catherine exhaled in deeply, as she stirred to her side, and took in a few more deep breaths, while the rays of sunshine coming through the blinds, made no apparent mark on her as she settled again.

Her mind fell into more of a haunting dream, as it had done the whole night through; placing an added sinking feeling, which made her feel more like she was falling into a black hole.

And she lay there with uncertainty, knowing a killer was on the loose-- walking around with a criminal mind, and not a care in the world. They sure weren't suffering from anything but certainty, because they had done the job-- and had succeeded better than planned.

That made many times difficult for her to contemplate just why they did this and elements played in all this. Even so, it wasn't hard to notice that one or both, Mr. Keiner or Candeece knew something that could make a world of a difference. They just weren't willing to let go.

In the background of the silence she was deepening herself in Catherine heard distant voices. At first she didn't have any concern for them, but the more she registered to mind, and the more she grasped, the better she learned that those voices weren't just people off the TV, no, those three voices were distinctly familiar.

She pried open her eyes, adjusted herself to the growing brightness of the room. And after looking around the room, and then beside her, after remembering that Lindsey had come and fallen asleep on the couch with her early this morning. So she sat up, rubbed her eyes, and stood to her feet.

The effects of the endless crying-- the puffy purple bags underneath her eyes, tear streaked cheeks, eyelashes that were once wet, crinkled slightly now that they were dry--and hair that was slightly tossed.

She walked over to the door and opened it, before making her way onto the wood floor of the foyer, and gingerly scooped back a piece of hair behind her ear, and made her way down the hall into the kitchen.

Short echoes of voices trailed--by the familiarity of them, she knew who they belonged to. Now Catherine needed to figure out why they were here.

She pursed her lips tightly as she padded barefoot down the hall and stopped at the frame of the kitchen door. With her arms folded loosely against her chest, she leaned her right shoulder against the frame and listened. "She's trying to be happy--" Lindsey continued in her innocent matter, as she looked up at Grissom, who sat across from her, and Sara sat to the right at the end of the oak table. "But it's hard--" Catherine had to catch her breath as she slid out of sight, and to the side. She leaned her head against the cool wall, and took in a few sharp breaths. "Sometimes" Lindsey added quietly. 

Sara looked out of the doorframe and into the hall, and exhaled, before she gazed back into the eyes of her coworker's daughter. She reminded Sara each time that she saw her, of how innocent the mind was at this age, and how much at this same time she could tell how much Lindsey was willing to protect her mother from what she could.

Sara nodded in response, and closed her eyes then reopened them before gazing back into the hall-- yet she found it empty once more. She exhaled and continued to gaze-- as it was at this time that she knew something in the air had changed. Grissom looked back into the hall with a slight puzzled look, and occasionally looked at Sara in hope that she would give him some insight of what she found so interesting out in the hall.

That was until he caught sight for the first time today-- a defeated Catherine, her back towards them as she quickly walked back down the hall, and took the stairs, before going up quickly, and disappeared. His eyes trailed with her, until he could no longer see her.

Sara exhaled deeply. That's when he knew without looking at her that she had felt something the last couple of times also. Grissom caught eyes with her, and shot her a considerate look that read, 'I see now. I saw her too' She gazed at him and looked up at the stairs. He read her exact thoughts and nodded. That won him a gentle smile as Sara excused herself from the table.

----

Observe to know. That's what her father always told Sara when she was younger. And she had always had an idea of how much he meant what he said--but in the times those words were needed, that's when she knew that they mattered the most.

Sara trailed down the half-lit hall, as she noted to green walls, the three pictures that hung in their positions, the light fixtures nearby; throwing out little light, and illuminating the closed door at the end of the hall.

She took in a breath, and looked at everything once more before pushing herself down to the end, and stood at the closed door--giving a short knock before reaching for the knob and opening the door softly. "Catherine?" She called into the room as she peeked in.

The room was still, beside a familiar tune that created a lovely melody throughout the area.

When your down and troubled, you need some loving care Nothin, Nothin is going right. Mmm... close your eyes  
And think of me, and soon I will be there, to brighten up  
Even your darkest nights.

The bedroom itself was clean-- the two flowered chairs in the corners were neatly arranged, no clutter was seen anywhere on any of the chairs, the floor, the two nightstands on each side of the bed, or even the dresser.

She looked around and stilled upon hearing a noise from the bathroom-- and she walked quietly across the room, to the half-open door. Sara started to look in, and opened the door just a little more, and saw Catherine wiping her mouth and throwing a wadded Kleenex into the toilet.

Sara then stared into the basin, as she held fast to the fact of just how much all this was taking a toll on her coworker. And no matter how much Catherine wanted to believe that she was fine, and her daughter was coping well, this moment proved otherwise.

You just call out my name, and you know wherever I am  
I'll coming running to see you again.  
Winter, spring, summer, or fall-- all you have to do is call  
And I'll be there. You've got a friend.

---

Gil raised an eyebrow as he looked at the picture. Lindsey was now drawing a grave, while two people stood nearby, and they looked on towards the horizon; downhearted expressions on their faces.

Grissom tilted his head in interest, and he watched her own expression; her head slightly downward while her eyes were fixed on concentration. "Now that's a really good drawing" He complimented with a small smile, and the concentration on her face melted slightly as her eyes gazed upon him.

She watched him for a moment, trying to figure out what to say to the kind admiration she saw in his face. And the meaningful smile upon his lips, which after a little encouragement from the silence, she tried to meet that smile with her own-- but instead she failed miserably, and frowned, before covering up her sadness with a small thank you.

Tilting his head in thought, he gave a distracted nod. She watched him, then picked up her pencil and looked away. In indecision to look up at him, and slowly she started adding details to her picture.

He took in a deep breath. Something about this conversation was unsettling-- He absolutely didn't want to make her talk if she didn't want to. Besides he wasn't interviewing her for a crime, instead he was helping to answer a scared cry for help--which at this point, she didn't want anything to do with.

Lindsey let out a sigh, and took a slight pause before continuing to work silently. "My mom taught me how to draw three years ago" She broke the silence, without looking up. Gil blinked, and looked at her in sudden surprise. It was as if she had sensed that he was going to ask a question.

He adjusted himself in his chair-- no exact uneasiness was noted-- he just had to marvel knowing something that had never been mentioned until now. "Three years ago?" He checked to make sure he had heard her right, even though he had been reading the words right off her lips.

She looked up at him and nodded. "Yeah" Her innocent eyes searched his. Hmm... he looked away from her gaze, and brought in newfound questions into his head as he thought.

---

The sound of flushing that broke the silence startled Sara a bit-- but not as much as her knocking on the door would do for Catherine. She let out a hesitant sight as she pushed back a hair from her face. In her heart she knew that Catherine was just trying to help. It was also true that although she was connected to this case, she would have done anything to do something. And if Sara could take anything away to help this situation, it would be how angry she had been a couple days ago when Catherine had burst into the middle of the interview with Candeece.

Sara raised her hand and knocked, pressing the door softly with the tips of her fingers, so the door opened. "Hey Catherine" She heard a sniffle, and saw Catherine use her hands to wipe away the tears, as she walked into the room.

"I'm alright Sara" She called back quickly without looking at her, and rolled off a piece of tissue and wiped her nose, before she threw the wadded piece in the wired trash can, between the sink and the toilet.

Sara furrowed her brows at the tone in her voice. "I never said you weren't" She closed her eyes, took in a deep breath and stepped into the room. "Catherine--" She stopped at the sudden motion, as Catherine veered around. And that's when Sara noticed that her eyes were red, underneath they were puffy and swollen-- which highlighted the deep purple bags that show how much Catherine hadn't slept in the last day and a half.

In turn Catherine took in a rapid breath, and cast her eyes to the side, before refocusing. Catherine... Her eyes peered up at Sara. "What?" She thought in her head, and shook her head slightly, to move some hairs away from her face. She watched Sara intentionally for the sole purpose of catching some cue, or hint that suggested the purpose for her being up here.

Sara took in another deep breath knowing in the first place that she was breaking territory. If anything, Catherine was a strong woman, a friend, and personally somebody she looked up to. But she was also somebody who learned you can't tie rope through water-- She knew that Catherine had accommodated that from the beginning of her growing career-- making her way through stages with a young child.

She loves you, you know"

Catherine exhaled with a sigh, and then pressed her lips tightly together, before releasing. "Yeah, I know" She swallowed hard, and stared at anything at the moment that would help her just focus. "Only it feels like we're always a mile apart" She had that longing, sad voice, with a catch that made their eyes connect. Yes, she understood.

"We have a hard job Cat" Sara exhaled, and folded her arms, before leaning up against the side of the doorframe. She couldn't imagine how much it killed Catherine to watch somebody else raise her child, while she sat on the sideline.

"Right" Catherine said palely. The words of the last time they had together as family swarmed throughout her head, as she brushed past her co-worker and into the room. Her heart was racing, and every step she took she felt something wasn't right, but she refused to hinder to it, until the blackness engulfed her. 

----

Quite focused on the crime scene in front of him, Greg snapped one last picture with his camera, and stood up. Soon afterward he shoveled into his shirt pocket, and took out a pen, scribbled something in his notes, looked over the individual that lay in front of him, and tucked the notes underneath his arm before re-pocketing the pen.

"Greg" Warrick greeted as he and Nick walked into the room. What do we have? Silently he pointed to the body. Nick stopped to the side of Warrick, lifted his hand in greeting, searched over the sprawled body with questioning eyes, and then looked back up at Greg.

"Male, I'm guessing he's in his late twenties" Greg started to inform them. "One blank shot to the chest-- Livor temp show's that he's been here for at least a half an hour"

"Who called it in?" Warrick asked, tilting his head to the side in interest. Lack of blood for a gunshot wound. He noted in his head, and his eyes trailed around the room to the blood splattered front door, and floor. 

"Anonymous 911 caller" Greg answered quickly, as he looked over the body again.

"Do we have any idea who that anonymous caller is?" Nick chimed in, while pulling out some gloves out of his pocket.

"Already tried that. The 911 operator told us that from the beginning, the person who called wanted to remain anonymous." Greg stated, as he loosely crossed his arms, in part displeasure.

Warrick took in a deep breath and stepped forward. "Greg, no one happened to move the body before we got here—"

"No. That's how it was when I got here— although you might want to ask him that—" Greg turned and pointed to an officer that was standing in the corner of the room talking to another officer "He was the first one on the scene"

----

"Come on Catherine open your eyes" It was Gil's encouraging voice that she heard, as she lightly stirred. Now her head was definitely protesting again the hard hit she had sustained while her sudden fall.

She felt everything… their movements, whispers, the fear in their voices as they tried to awaken her. But she could do nothing to help, even though she had tried to open her mouth to say something, tried to find some way to move, and found herself helpless as she passed into a deep sleep.

xxxxx Beginning of flashback...

"Whenever are you going to realize that you have a daughter Eddie?" She heard herself ask her ex-husband as they stood at the driveway of her house. He was wearing a dark blue dress shirt, jeans, and smelled of perfume. Which was a definite clue that he had been with another one of 'his girls'

He turned his head towards the house, and gazed up at their five year old daughter. "I had to take care of something" By his expression Catherine was quite sure that he was slightly embarrassed, so he had said it quietly enough that Lindsey could not hear his words, from where she was standing.

"You're three hours late. You never called. We didn't think you would even show up." She added in a warming tone. In no way was she going to let him off the hook, after he took advantage of some woman, just so he could be late to his own daughter's birthday party.

He exhaled in sharply, glaring at her. "I had something to take care of" He repeated coolly, still not answering the real reason he was late, or why he never called. Although, she had her suspicions.

"Look, I was having a hard time choosing" He said holding up the two presents he held in his hand. "I picked this one up earlier in the week" He added, holding up the bigger present of the two, "But I needed to get one more thing" His words lingered with her, his eyes pleaded with her just to listen, to give him a chance to explain himself.

But she didn't know if she was ready to.

End of flashback...

----

Dr. Robbins solemnly assessed the body of their recent victim. He noted where the man had been shot; that it had been a close range. He turned the body to the side and found that there was no exit wound, so the bullet should still definitely be inside.

Hands were clean of any gunpowder residue, most likely ruling out suicide. Defensive wounds were found on fingers of both hands, and a bruise on the left wrist. Fingernails were mostly clean, except for a couple of his fingers on his right hand, which Dr. Robbins had collected some evidence that could be useful.

While a white powdery substance was found on the lower bottom, on the inside of his blue dress shirt, pants, and remained everywhere from his stomach to his upper thighs. Dr. Robbins scraped off some of the powder for a sample before continuing.

He then went back, and detailed the facts of the bullet wound on paper, then dug deep into the wound, until he got a hold of the bullet, and pulled it out.

----

"Catherine?" Gil said gently, both in relief and in kindness, as she opened her eyes, and scrolled across the features of his face. Come on Catherine, open your eyes. His words safely washed over her, as she glimpsed over the initial shock. She uncurled her body slightly, noting at the same time, the position that she had been in. "Do you know where you are?" Her blue eyes gazed up at him, then looked down at the floor, as she carefully levered herself up into a sitting position, and scrubbed her face tiredly with her hands. "In Las Vegas" She answered dryly, but with a touch of amusement on her face, that made him smile softly.

Catherine shifted her body. Gil watched her, and knew her intentions, so a moment later he extended his hand out to her as she then took it, and he watched cautiously as she stood up, wavering here and there, in chance to steady herself.

He pressed his lips together, and tightly, as he titled his head. "Going on a hunch here, but when's the last time you ate something?"

She directed her eyes towards him, knowing when, and how sparsely she had eaten during the last few days. Lindsey could attest to that—well since the days that she had been home with her.

----

"The pattern of blood spatter shows that our victim was facing the door when he was shot" Warrick observed, as he went on snapping some pictures of the door.

"Foot traffic on this floor gives a regular pattern of life" Nick added, tape lifting a few of them for evidence. "I've noticed the same prints show up all around the house, and by the door, which is also where we're introduced to a new set of prints"

Warrick gazed around at the illuminated footprints on the wood floor. "One that doesn't fit in" He nodded, and got out a swab and took a sample of the blood on the door, then on the floor.

"Right. That and the trace of dirt left behind" Nick arched his brow, and held up a small sample of brown dirt.


	2. Walk the Line

Chapter Two: Walk The Line

Catherine remembered as she gazed at nothing particular, and as his words took her back to a particular moment, after a long case. He almost said the same thing.

Beginning of flashback…

"When's the last time you ate anything?" Gil asked, as he walked towards her. She was leaning against the Tahoe, tired but happy that the case was now over. It seemed like the days had lasted longer than usual.

She took off her sunglasses and gazed up at him. The hot sun beating upon their already worn bodies. "If you count the measly catch and run bagel I had this morning" She suggested, arching her brow and cleaned off both lenses of her sunglasses with her shirt, then replaced them back over her eyes.

Point taken. As much as he could say, he deserved that, and had indeed woken her up at four this morning, after learning of a break in the case. Her sleepy voice that had answered the phone early in the morning, suggested of the pending fatigue of being woken.

He later learned that with the long hours of working, Lindsey had gotten sick and had kept her up until one thirty that morning, which left her with about three hours of sleep to go on for the day. The least he could do now was treat her to a warm meal, and then she could do whatever she wanted. Sleep, perhaps.

"Noted" He put in simply. "Any way you're going to take me up on the offer, or am I going to have to eat alone?"

She looked through her sunglasses and smiled, while adjusting her standing position. "What were you thinking of?"

End of flashback…

Catherine shook her head of the thought. He was watching her, quite carefully, still waiting for an answer. She took in a deep breath, and exhaled. "Don't count the measly bagel" She offered, and walked out of the room.

Nice.

----

"I found this in the upstairs bedroom drawer, looks like whoever was here, trashed the bedroom really well." Warrick spoke as he came down the stairs bearing an envelope addressed to Mr. and Mrs. Jack Malone. "It's a congratulation card, stashed away in what is suppose to be the safety of a drawer" He identified the small card, with a couple ribbons by the words, 'To share in your joy'

Nick took the card slowly from his hand, and opened it. His was mind reading the words before he read them out loud. "We hope your dreams come true. Mac and Eliza." He looked up at Warrick with puzzlement. "So Mr. Malone and his wife we're or are expecting a baby" He asked in a tone that wanted him to confirm which one of the choices it was.

Warrick squinted his eye, to block out the sun that was shooting through the window as he nodded. "Yeah. Looks like they still are"

"Oh?" Nick questioned, looking over the card once more.

"Nothing in the nursery has been touched, or opened." Warrick pointed out. "There are still clothes in bags from the stores with tags on them, and baby clothes that are hanging neatly up in the closet, also with tags on them." He readjusted himself, and prepared himself to continue, until Greg stepped in from the other room.

"I don't get it then." Obviously he had been listening in to the conversation. "No toys were found anywhere else in the house. An empty bassinet, with a folded blanket is in the living room" Greg confirmed Warrick's suspicions. "Yeah but it get's a lot stranger" He answered to their confused looks. "I found a message on the Malone's answering machine, as I was passing by to process the kitchen and the living room" Nick arched a brow, in response to have him continue. Greg exhaled, and then opened up his notepad. "A lady at a number 355-6821 wants a Jenna, who I'm supposing is the wife, to call her in setting up a time for Rhett and her to come over."

"Wait a minute, I thought we decided the guy's name is Jack" Nick folded his arms over one another, "So who is Rhett?"

"That's what it said on the envelope" Warrick answered, and looked back at Greg, who shrugged.

Nick sighed, then turned around and looked around the house. "So the guy is supposedly married, expecting a child" Both Greg and Warrick nodded at his insight. "There was no wedding band on his finger, no pictures around the house of either one of them"

"I found a baby name book on the floor by the dresser, but no woman's clothing, shoes, or even a jewelry case like many woman have, in the room, or the bathroom" Warrick added, finding it all too funny that things weren't adding up here.

"So are they even married?" Nick was starting to add up what clues they did have. "Does she even live here?"

Warrick took in a deep breath. "That's what we need to figure out"

----

Letting Catherine get ahead, he then started to make his way down the stairs, before his phone started to ring, "Grissom" He answered swiftly. 

"Gil its Brass. I need you and Sara to head over to this address" He greeted, then gave Gil the address that they should go to, said a few more words, then they both hung up, before Grissom made his way in no rush, back down the stairs and into the kitchen.

He held his closed phone at Sara. "That was Brass. He needs us to head over" He informed her as she stood up.

"Right" She nodded, but he knew she was reluctant to leave. Her hands wrung around the chair, as she turned and left. He watched her leave and turned to Catherine, as he played with his keys that were in his pocket. "Catherine" He exhaled. "I don't think the measly bagel did it for you" He quoted back, pulling the keys out into his hand. And she knew by the way that he had said it, that he remembered that one day, the offer, and concern that he voiced to her after a long case.

With that he trailed down the hall, and went out the door. She exhaled and pulled out a seat next to her daughter at the table and sat down. She gazed at nothing in particular, but sat herself in the seat, facing towards her daughter, and watched as Lindsey started to draw an outline of her next drawing, on another piece of paper.

Her other drawing, which Catherine could only see half of, was tucked behind the other paper that she was drawing on now. So much detail went into both pictures, as did her heart and soul. And behind that talent, and those blue eyes, was a girl with a broken past.

_"Mommy" Lindsey cried as she held her daughter's hand tightly. Her voice was full of fear and confusion as they walked to the front door in part darkness. The little girl was messily dressed in a beautiful light green shirt, jeans and tennis shoes. Her newly brushed hair was pulled back into a quick ponytail, and her shoelaces were still untied and dragged against the tile as she walked._

And she was fearful because she had been woken up, when she was sure that it wasn't time to get up. But as her pink plaid lamp had been turned on, she saw her mother dressed, and Lindsey was quickly instructed for her little four year old body to get up. While she did, her mother turned quickly and opened her drawer up; pulling out what was probably the first thing she had spotted.

Lindsey stood up, and propped herself up enough so that she could see in the drawer, as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes, she called out, "No, that one" She pointed to the green shirt, and without thinking Catherine grabbed it, and threw it on to the bed. If anything, Lindsey would choose what she wanted to wear for this 'midnight ride' "Shirt off" She advised her daughter, then turned back to the drawer, where all of her shirts were still neatly folded. Until now.

Catherine grabbed shirt after shirt, unconcerned with if they had unfolded a bit, as she cast one after the other right by her pillow.

Lindsey's reaction to this as it was still moments later was puzzlement and confusion. It only continued as her mother helped her silently with her shirt, and then opened the next drawer.

"Mommy what are we doing?" She had asked and rubbed into her eye with her fist. Catherine stopped what she was doing and eyed Lindsey, who was dressed in the green shirt, and now pink flowered pants. She couldn't help smile inside, as she arched her brow, and exhaled as her mind came back to her daughter's question.

Really she didn't know what they were doing. There was no real plan, besides the fact that she was angry, and figured that enough was enough. She knew Gil knew, and she would take of that later. For now she would focus on the fact that she had given Eddie one last chance. One. Last. Chance. And he blew it.

She leaned towards her daughter, and lovingly stroked her cheek, and gave her a gentle smile. "We're going for a midnight ride" She answered, hoping desperately in her mind that Lindsey wouldn't ask what that was, because Catherine had just made that name up for the sake that it was almost midnight already, and they needed to get out of the house before Eddie woke up.

The little girl gazed quizzically, and then her expression deepened, as her mouth formed an almost perfect 'o' shape, and her finger traced along the flowers of her comforter. "Oh" her face fell as she concentrated on the texture she was touching, then her face lit up. "Like a adventure?" She asked as Catherine helped her sit up more on the bed, and helped her put on her pants.

"Yes, an adventure" She focused back on buttoning up her pant button. 'If you count that as going to see the grandfather you never see.' Catherine shrugged the thought off, and ran her finger along a stray piece of her blonde hair, and brought it back behind her ear. "Now find your shoes please"

Lindsay sighed and took her mother's answer in stride, as she got off the bed. She walked to the closed closet door and pulled the knob, opening the door quietly as she fumbled through the darkened closet, and pulled out her favorite tennis shoes.

"Here" Lindsey walked back over to her mother who was again pulling out more things out of the drawer. This time she was pulling out underwear and socks from both top drawers. She held out her shoes, turned back around and sat back down on the bed. 

-----

Both Gil and Sara were silent as they drove to the address they were given. Their eyes took turns gazing at one another, as they both drew out their feelings in silence. Each had their mind on something different which intensified both of their thoughts.

When they got to the scene, he immediately opened his door, and she opened hers. They both got out, and she opened her mouth, speaking only his name. He gazed at her, but they were only interrupted by Brass' voice.

"Gil, Sara. Not a good day for the Fischer's " He explained as they both shut their doors, and exchanged looks as they followed him closer to a nice looking white brick house. "The mother's sister who lives with them called it in" He called back to them as they walked up the stairs. "She discovered her sister strangled on the bed, her brother-in law bleeding on the floor, her niece in the bathroom tub, and her nephew is nowhere to be found that she could see."

As they stood there for a moment, Sara gazed around the scene. There was of course the occasional yellow 'Do Not Cross' tap, that marked boundary for the crime scene. Police officers guarded around the tape, as concerned onlookers gazed at anything that gave them comfort.

And Brass started walking again, as Gil followed right beside him, while Sara accompanied them, walking a slower pace than both of them, as they walked from the asphalt, to the sidewalk. "The sister is still in the house" He informed them, as they walked up the five stairs that led up to the patio.

When they walked up, they saw an empty flowered covered swing that swung slightly from the gentle breeze that fell through the growing heat.

While an old worn black mat laid in front of the now open door of the house, a few pair of shoes were shoveled to the side. One pair looked like they were neatly placed down, and the other two were slightly tilted, like they had been purposely knocked over.

They walked closer, and Sara furrowed her brow as she noted a big scratch on one of the tilted pairs of shoes. She had an odd feeling that she couldn't place since, she couldn't yet determine when the scratch had been placed, or by who.

"No forced entry into the house" Gil commented as they stepped onto the foyer wood floor, as he gazed at the screen door that was now propped open by a rock.

No scratches.

Sara looked over at the door, and nodded in agreement; her eyes upon his, until they fell, as they scanned the bottom area, where the step between the patio and into the house. She looked along the metal, up along the frame that held the door, and found a small, but noticeable red spot.

----

"Can I help you?" A young lady with red hair, and no younger than twenty-two, inquired of the two detectives, as they stood at her door.

"Yeah, I'm Nick Stokes, and this is Warrick Brown. We're from the Las Vegas Crime Lab" He introduced as he pulled out his badge, and Warrick quickly did the same. "We were hoping we could ask you a few questions"

She drew in a deep breath, and exhaled. "About the Malone's right?" She opened her door wider as they both gave a combined 'yes' "Come In" Both Nick and Warrick gave an appreciative nod, and stepped in.

From what they could see the house was fairly small, but comfortable. There was white tile on the floor, leading from the front, to the kitchen area. The living room was to the left of them, and sported white carpet, one couch, two blue chairs. Vertically across from the couch, and a piano that sat in the corner wall of the room, underneath a medium sized painting.

She closed the door, and gazed up at them, giving a slight blush. "Please have a seat" She showed them into the living room. "Don't mind the mess" 

Warrick and Nick looked around, and small box full of toys of kind, stuffed in, and now they were practically overflowing. As a bunch of stuffed animals were stacked cozily behind the box, which Warrick spotted what she must have been talking about, soon after they all sat down.

Both of them exchanged looks, as she sat down, across from them in one of the chairs. Nick cleared his throat, and turned his attention back to her. "You have kids?"

She smiled gracefully, and nervously pulled back a hair behind her ear. "Yeah" She gazed up at them with her blue eyes. "God's gift from heaven" She chuckled quietly. "Never though I would have two, let alone at the same time"

There it was that smile again.

They had all seen Catherine reveal that same graceful smile, many times. Especially when she talked about her own daughter, Lindsey.

Each were like the other.

----

'Packing my bags this morning  
Was the hardest thing to do.  
But packing my bags was so easy  
Compared to standing outside your  
Door right now to say goodbye to you'

Her small feet dangled over, as her mother kneeled and gently helped her put them on, even though Lindsey could put them on herself. But after yawning for the third time, Catherine could tell her abrupt awakening was hard to come by.

"Catherine what are you doing?" Eddie's voice rang out from the frame of the door. His voice was groggy, and confused. She could even perceive the anger rising through his tone, as she stepped in front of Lindsey, and their daughter innocently watched as if this whole thing was a game.

'Falling Eddie. I'm—'

"Mom" Catherine lingered in the dream as she felt her shoulder being shaken, and her thoughts were slowly being brought back around to the present time.

She blinked and exhaled, and his face was gone in a flash. His deep blue eyes that she had fallen in love with the day she had met him, faded. The smell of his cologne that wafted through her senses left her as she blinked again and pulled herself even closer to reality.

Because all she had left now were words.

----

Gil watched intently as Sara poured a drop onto the swab, and instantly it turned a purplish color; a sign that showed them was positive for blood.

"Positive" She confirmed, then snapped the lid shut so the swab was secure, before standing up. She bent her head slightly, as she pulled out a pen, and marked the location on the tube, while he stayed in the same place in the house and looked around, while stealing glances of her, until she met his gaze.

Sara arched her brow and smiled softly, as she twisted the pen with her fingers, then placed it back into her pocket.

It was that same passionate look that left her heart stirring for more.

----

"My kids always felt safe over there" She pointed dolefully in the direction of The Malone's house. "Now, well I don't know" She placed her hands tightly together, and kept them in her lap.

"So your kids did play over there?" Warrick chimed in, still in a daze as he still found himself wondering about the phone call Lindsey had made earlier. The tone in her voice made him wonder if Gil had been able to get through to them. That's why he had called him to go over there in the first place, when neither Nick or himself were able to make it over there.

Warrick knew in a way Gil was more like a father to her. Like the father she never knew, nor ever had growing up.

"Yeah all the time" The lady broke through his thoughts, as she looked from one to the other, still with great confusion in her face.

And he was wondering the same thing, except this time it was for Catherine.


	3. Beautiful Disaster

Chapter Three: Beautiful Disaster

The day seemed to come and go without warning, and the sun had long hid itself behind the graying clouds in the Nevada sky. And as they got out of their cars, quite exhausted from a full day; collecting and observing evidence, interviewing possible suspects, while ruling out some of them in order to narrow their search down to an art, this rainy day September day had not gone to waste.

"It's really pouring now" Sara commented, as Gil walked into the break room, and went straight over the full coffeepot, before opening the cupboard above and grabbed himself a nice mug.

Gil arched his brow and chuckled softly, as he gazed over at her, while her brown eyes stared at the rain drizzling down upon the building's windows. His eyes went from the curvy patterns as the rain fell briskly out of view, back on to her as he nodded. "We know one thing it's good for though--" He added, looking from the corner of his eye, and gripped his hand tightly around the handle of the pot, while holding the cup with his other hand.

She took her gaze off of the window and smirked, before she had even established her attention upon him. Her brow arched in interest as her smirk turned into a soft smile, as she now saw one steaming mug of coffee in a navy blue mug sitting directly on top of the white countertop, while he retrieved another mug from the cupboard.

Her gaze seemed to hold him fixated as he carefully pulled out an Indian red, colored mug; in fact such a beautiful color for such a gloomy and well started day. Only to say it really hadn't started that well, and now well—it was raining, and it had been a long day—a very long day.

So even after uncomprehendingly gazing in her direction, his eyes swimming deep in her chocolate brown eyes, he could see her focus drowning out the rain that drummed rhythmically against the window, as they stared at him, then broke to look at her empty hands that sat in her lap.

He used that brief moment to pour the other cup of coffee, then walked over and handed it to her as she broke away from her sudden gaze upon the wall. She looked up at him with a sudden smile and a thank you, as she took the cup graciously into hand.

"I needed this" She gestured to the cup, then took a sip, and the room became silent again; beside the pitter-patter sound of the rain, and the few people that were still here in the lab, relaying important information to one another.

"Knew you would" He smirked, then went back over the counter and took a sip of his own coffee, casting glances here and there towards her tired frame, and knew very well behind the comfort of the couch; legs drawn in towards her body, hands wrapped around the steaming cup, her eyes again gazing out the rain casted window, definitely told him something was on her mind.

----

Take me to where you are,  
Where the sun and the moon collide  
And keep your face in memories,  
As the rain pours down my face.

And the cold wind blows,  
In an icy stare, as your love  
Comes rushing back.   
While sorrow draws more  
Near to me, in time  
I can't go back.

Without notice to the rain that was now falling long and hard, Catherine stood in a deep stare. Her hand that griped the wood handle of the umbrella was cold, and her legs were unmovable to the wet green grass that she now stood on.

The sky was a dark blue, as thunder rumbled along the atmosphere and a few bursts of lightning flashed after. And just at that moment a bitter wind breezed through her hair as she gazed at the grave place that she had placed herself in an hour ago.

So she stepped up to his grave, as she held a rose in her hand, and took in a deep breath as she scanned the words upon his grave;

Eddie Willows  
We Only Part, To Meet Again

---

"We got a receipt from a store someone went to, and I don't think it was him that went shopping" Greg pointed into the other room with the tweezers, in the place where Mr. Malone had been found.

"What would make you think that?" Warrick inquired more ingeniously than he should have been, as he examined the contents on the table. Which held yesterday's newspaper, a blue cup; still had coffee it, a white bib that had been folded over, which read, 'my little boy' and had been cast to the side of the table.

The bib itself seemed to be large enough for a toddler to fit into.

A toddler.

"Behold the smell of perfume." Greg answered with a small smirk, as he lifted the receipt that had been found slightly wedged between the bag and a package of tuna.

"How do you know it wasn't someone who put the food in the bag?" Nick suggested as he took hold of the paper, scanning the items upon it.

Greg shook his head in return, with a shrug as his eyes momentarily lit up. "It's possible, but it we're not sure we could ask Jessie" He returned his gaze to the paper, with an exceedingly intelligent look on his face.

----

"Oh but the good day has already begun" Grissom quoted, after Brass had filled them in on the rest of the information, and they had just walked into the room where the mother laid on the queen sized bed. While the father laid on the floor, on his stomach; his head facing in the direction of the wall.

Sara gazed up at Gil with much understanding—always contemplating how he could have something for everything—as his words, and unusual ways made the case complete. She arched her brow, as she got that look on her face that asked, who said it this time?

He was already pulling on some white latex gloves, and crouched down beside his own kit that was already opened. And he understood her expression immediately, as he answered simply. "My brother"

She gazed up at him as soon as she had registered his words, and came up short of a blank, surprised expression. "I didn't know you had a brother" She informed him, as she held onto the black camera that was draped around her neck, then took a picture of the mother, while relaying the information in her own way that Brass had given them just moments ago.

Bridgett Fischer, thirty-six years old. Shoulder length brown hair, and dazzling green eyes; that were now lifeless, as they stared into a darkened abyss. While the expression on her face still presented a sense of fear and anxiety from the now present situation.

He nodded "A couple years older" He added, breaking into her thoughts. She furrowed her brows, as she got ready to take another picture, when she noticed that Bridgett was still grasping a piece of jewelry in her right hand as it sat tucked, almost hidden from view.

His words hovered within her, as she moved to the other side of the bed, and took a picture. The chain of the necklace was still in view, as well as half of whatever was connected to it. She couldn't exactly tell.

"There's some kind of symbol, or picture on this necklace" Sara pointed out, as she waited for him to stand up and to walk over; as he had been drawing in some observations on the father's position—documenting pictures of evidence useful in the case—before he broke from that and observed the necklace that was still in hand.

----

Catherine broke completely from her thoughts and saw her nine-year old daughter, standing beside her. "Are you mad at me because I could save him?" Lindsey inquired abruptly as she held back her own sobs in her words, and waited for some indication, some comfort that she could place in her broken heart.

She gave a choking sob, swallowing hard to keep her composure, as she saw her daughter's lip waver. Her heart broke to hear her ask, and at the same time it ached to hold her near her. "No, baby" She shook her head, and placed her hand upon her daughter's cheek, as she wiped away the tear that ran down it. "I'm so proud of you for being brave" Her voice wavered, and her own tears threatened to fall. "There was nothing you could have done that would have saved him" Catherine gave her daughter a small reassuring smile, as she finally let a tear silently fall down her cheek. Lindsey stood there another moment before giving way to small-saddened smiling sob, then wrapped her arms around her mother's neck.

"Will you tell him I miss him?" She whispered after finally calming, as she broke her embrace and met her mother's gaze.

Catherine was amazed at how much better she felt, and the comfort that wrapped around her, as well as her daughter's. Even the consolation of one another absorbed the astounding feel of her words, Please tell him I miss him.

Even though she had never mentioned to anyone of her intentions of going to his grave, her daughter could feel it within her, with a silent notion. Lindsey had slipped a small rose into the palm of her hand, and Catherine knew her last goodbye to him would be hard, but they had to move on.

----

That was Archie" Nick confirmed as he snapped his phone closed, and held on to it tightly. "The prints found on our grocery bag had several prints on it but those prints were from four different people--" He pocketed the phone back in his pocket. "Jenna Malone, Jessica Gannett, Monica Brunei, and Jack Malone"

Warrick nodded. "So according to his prints on the receipt, we could assume that he was in the kitchen at the time that his wife got home" He stated, as he started to sift through the contents that they had found in the bag.

Tuna…banana's… Doughnuts…etc, etc…

"By the way he was dressed, I'm assuming he was on his way to work" Greg chimed in, as he swabbed the sink to determine if there was any trace of blood.

"Okay so while he was getting ready for work this morning, his pregnant wife was making a quick run to the store?" Nick inquired, looking over the receipt. "For tuna, bananas, doughnuts and some other things that I won't even mention."

"Good point" Greg answered, then turned back towards the sink, put a drop on the swab, of which did not turn any color. So either this person was either really really good, or something else.

"Yeah well that's not the only thing that doesn't make sense" Warrick added, sensing Nick's confusion, and only catching half of Greg's attention at that same moment. "I found this bib on the table" He held up a bag that now held the toddler-sized bib that he had found earlier today.

"Looks like it could fit— a toddler" Nick stated as he observed the bib.

Warrick exhaled and took the bag back into hand, staring uneasily at one piece of the puzzle that did not fit. At least not yet. "That's what I said"

Nick arched a brow "There was no sign anywhere in this house that a toddler lives here" He stated gingerly, observing the food. His eyes viewed the contents of the bag, and noticed something sticking barely visible on the bottom of the bananas.

"Possibly" Warrick trailed, as his eyes watched Nick reach out, and attentively watched as his hands lifted the bananas up, which in turn revealed a gray card. He exchanged looks with Nick and asked, "What'd you find"

----

"It's a locket" Sara realized, a good-sized gold locket, with a picture in front. Carefully she reached out, and pried it out of her hand.

The picture in front was of a young girl, with brown shoulder length hair. She looked about five or six, and looked quite happy as she stood by an old brick home.

And at first glance you would wonder if it was her, or if it could possibly be some kind of memoir for a loved one, being kept close to their heart.

Gil watched as Sara held it up, observing its features as it spun around in mid-air. The gold shining brightly as it reflected the surrounding around the room, making them seem cheery and bright, as if nothing had ever happened here.

"Think it was hers?" Gil asked her as he stood examining the hand that the locket had been held in. He asked through a side glance as she then put the locket back into a big and sealed it, before marking it as part of evidence and handed it over to her.

She pursed her lips in interest, as she put the cap back on the pen. "Could be" She called over her shoulder as she turned around and laid the evidence on top of her kit; then stopped and asked, "How well do you think the sister downstairs knows her own?" She asked looking slightly back over her shoulder, as she turned around and looked briefly at the bag.

Gil arched a brow. As he leaned closer to find that in the palm of Bridgett Fischer's hand, were nail indentations. He observed them, then Bridgett's, realizing that Bridgett didn't have any. Then he looked up. "Well she lived with them…" Sara arched her brow, and nodded. "So she's got to know something"

----

But letting go had never been a very easy thing. Never got easier either. 

Because when she thought she had said goodbye to an old friend, whose case, although reopened fifteen years later in hopes of getting the chance once more of catching the real killer, only ended in an old epic battle of familiar knowledge, kept secret; now spilled.

The man who had helped Catherine get on her feet, had been swiped off of his own. And she had meant every word when had told him; she would see this through, until the very end. Of course she had stuck to her gun, and he was now serving his proper time in jail.

She took in a deep breath, stepping out of her car, into the solitary grounds of the cemetery. The rose tucked safely in the confines of her black coat. A pensive, tired look upon her face, as the warmth of the car lingered within her, and the stirring wind flowed in a low chill.

The clouds now a dark gray in the sky that swirled around in the growing darkness were solely a conscious separation between what was, and where she was now. Which in no doubt, the circumstances had changed—being the very long road that it had been—and completed where this road ended, and today started where the new one began.

Familiar steps sheltered behind, as her shoes clicked along the sidewalk. The frequent clicks harmonized in her ears, as the frigid air circled around her, through growing winds as she walked around the grounds.

----

"Hi" Warrick greeted as a lady in her mid thirties answered the door, wearing a short sleeved pink shirt, and dark blue jeans, while she cradled a little boy, probably about five months in one hand. A young girl of the age of three hung tightly on to her mother's right leg.

"Yes, hello. Can I help you?" The lady answered kindly, then leaned down towards the little girl and patted her back, whispering something quietly into her ear. The little girl, whose face was now hidden in the material of her mother's pants, let go of her leg immediately, and raced off into the other room.

"Yeah, I'm Warrick Brown, and this is Nick Stokes" He introduced, as each showed her their badges, then pocketed them back up. "We're from the Las Vegas Crime lab" The lady shook her head, registering the feeling that was creeping along her veins, as she rocked the barely fussing baby in her arms. "Are you Brinna Peterman?" She talked quietly to the baby, soothing him gently as she nodded to them in response.

Nick and Warrick exchanged looks, then Nick nodded, and turned back towards her before she could ask what had brought them here, he interjected "Mrs. Peterman--" Her head immediately shot up upon hearing her name, and her blue eyes met there's. Nick tilted his head at her reaction. "You left a message on the Malone's answering machine"

Yeah a couple of days ago for a play date for today--" She answered. Her eyes held relief as she noted her son's eyes closing in tiredness, as his small body rocked back and forth, relaxing little by little as time passed on. "Why?" She asked warily.

Warrick exhaled and took in a deep breath. "This morning we found Jack Malone dead, and Jenna Malone nowhere in sight. When's the last time you saw either of them?"

"I saw Jenna last around eight forty five this morning when she dropped off Rhett" She told them honestly, stepping closer, and arching her brow in confusion. "Please I have their son here, and's he's already been through enough." Brinna added quietly, as her eyes hastened to the other room, where her daughter and Rhett sat playing with blocks, talking in their own language, back and forth.

"Wait--Rhett is their son?" Warrick chimed in, exchanging another look with Nick, who softly nodded in accord with his words, and stepped back, keeping one eye on the conversation, while taking in the surroundings of the house, or anything that caught his eye.

"No" She looked back at them with a discerning look, as she shook her head. "Not exactly"


	4. Wake Me When September Ends

Chapter Four: Wake Me When September Ends

In all of it's beauty in the waking of the day, the house stairs stirred with a creak underneath her descending steps, as light flooded through the curtained windows of the house, then darkened as the sun went behind the clouds again.

Sara didn't mind it, knowing the odds were with them today, with the weather not erasing any evidence by raindrops that were currently being searched for by a few people that she had never associated with in her life.

Come to think of it, that didn't matter either. If the job was being done, then justice would be served to a llittle boy without a family-- that is if that little boy was still alive.

And as she walked past the wall as she went down the stairs, she observed many pictures of the family; some of them professional pictures, others were just taken in quick instances to capture that moment, then framed.

Her brown eyes lit up on the point of seeing the little girl in a pink tutu, standing in perfect form as she held onto the gold bar with her hand. Her tin body reflecting from the glass behind her.

Another frame captured a brown haired boy, which Sara knew to be the Fischer's son. He looked just like his father, with the same grayish blue eyes that gazed back. With a wide grin, dimples apparent to his happiness held, the young boy held a soccer ball tightly in his left arm.

The next frame were of the mother and the father, who were both dressed casually; the mother in a salmon colored dress shirt and white khakis, her head posed back in laughter. While the father wore a light blue shirt and black pants; his body bent forward, an evident smile upon his face as he stood next to his wife.

Sara had no idea what they were laughing about, but knew that their short happiness had now come to an end-- only leaving memories, and a mystery behind.  
----

"No, I can't say they did..." Broke a voice through her thoughts; which was new, and not easing to her mind.

The voice came around loud and clear, coming from the room that she and Grissom had passed earlier. Any indication that the sister could give that she recognized this piece of jewelry, could say a whole lot to who owns it.

"And how long have you been living with your sister?" Came another voice, one familiar to her everyday profession.

Sara stepped quietly down the stairs, eyes still half focused on the pictures that were hanging to the side of her, as she finally took her gaze back on making her way to the bottom steps.

Her foot lingered on the last step before she knew it, and she stepped down on the wooden floor. As she was now just a couple steps shy of entering the room to join them.

Instead of going in, she put a hand on the wall and listened to the sister's answer. "Only a couple of months" The sister now responded to his question in a quiet but meek voice, while Sara also heard what was a deep sniffle, and a soft sweep of her feet across the floor.

Peering into the large room, Sara noticed the walls were painted a light green. While grand wood shelves lined all along the middle wall, between the two. The right wall sported two white paned windows, with a brown couch sitting underneath. A large screen TV sitting a few feet away, while a coffee table was established in between the couch and the TV.

On the left wall across the room sat a lighter colored desk; papers stacked on one side, with the next occupying a computer, that looked as though it was turned off.

---

She took in a deep breath as she followed along the stretch of cement, her eyes quickly scanning the graves as she passed. The rain, now falling faster upon her head, soaking her hair and body, Catherine realized she had forgotten her umbrella in her car.

Her eyes closed momentarily then reopened as she turned to look at her car in the distance. For a moment a thought rang through, and she bowed her head, as she located his grave, and simply sighed and headed back towards her car.

She dug the keys out of her pocket, pushed the unlock button, and quickly pulled up on the handle. Her fingers slipping from the fallen rain, then rose back to the handle, finding a deeper hold until the car door opened.

A few moments later, she found herself securely leaning against the tan leather seat, her forehead resting against the cool window, her breath creating a fog that crept along the glass. The red rose that Lindsay gave her, laid in her lap, the stem tightly in her grasp.

Fighting a fleeting moment that tried to convince her that she wasn't ready for this, she remembered her daughter. The innocent state of her nine-year-old body, shaken, after comprehending that her own father was never coming back. Her heart shattered, as she watched his dark oak casket being lowered into the ground.

And at that moment as she put her arm protectively around her daughter, and watched her quiet reaction; her eyes fighting tears, as her small hands wrapped around her waist, Catherine realized that her daughter was starting to understand what she knew, that human beings were capable of anything.

---

"Hey Warrick, Nick" Dr. Robbins greeted as he turned back around, with the usual protective gear he wore, as he held a scalpel in his hand, finger pressed against the top middle.

"Hey" both acknowledged back as they walked farther into the room. Their eyes followed to the table beside the one that he was working at, then to the next autopsy table that held Jack Malone. By now they both had pulled on their gloves and were waiting for anything that would help them further along in the case.

"What can you tell us about Jack?" Warrick inquired, as he motioned to the man, now pale skinned, as his clothed body had been replaced to bareness and had been covered by a thin blue sheet.

Dr. Robbins eyes sparked as he used the scalpel is his hand to point out his findings. "Close rang shot to the chest is what killed him" He acknowledged, as he grabbed a metal pan sitting to the side of them. "And left us with a bullet" He titled the pan downward, which sounded a metal rolling against metal chime as he handed the pan to Warrick. "What I found interesting though--" He continued. As he took a few stiff steps proceeding to the left, closer to Mr. Malone's lower stomach, then turned towards another table nearby. "Something that I thought you would like to see" He said as he grasped an evidence bag and faced them.

Nick arched a brow, his eyes reverting to the freshly stitched incision on Jack Malone's abdomen, besides the v shaped cut left from the collar bone done, after the body had been autopsied. Looking up Nick noted to himself to ask Dr. Robbins of an irregular findings, but ended up shoving the possible connecting questions into a compartment in his head somewhere nearby, as his eye caught two golden rings.

Wedding rings perhaps? Was his first question. His eyes fixed on the bag that Doc Robbins held up. In the corner of his eye he saw that Warrick was comprehending the contents of the bag also. And in a flash as they gave a connected gaze that's when they both knew—they didn't have to say anything.

-----

"Which means you know well of the items that sit in this house--" Sara caught Brass' gaze as she walked into the room. She could tell immediately that he understood her tone of question was a statement—and there was more to it, than what met the eye.

Different voice. New face. The young woman didn't know what to make of her—although Sara's gentle brow eyes sought to bring her grieving heart, comfort. She couldn't argue with that.

"Rachel this is Sara Sidle from the Las Vegas Crime Lab" His face then fell slightly as he took in a deep breath. He always hated introducing a victim into the picture, in the presence of their living breathing relative. "Sara, Rachel Shetfield. Bridgett's sister."

A quick nod, Rachel gave an almost inaudible "Hello" as she put one foot slightly in front of the other. Her green eyes considerately glanced in their direction—bearing questions, which were unanswered, and haunting.

The room fell silent, of which Sara took the moment as she watched Rachel's eyes fall to the floor. Rapid breathing, heavy motions of panic, gave way to a drawn-out rising and falling of Mrs. Shetfield's chest. Each Sara and Captain Brass made a swift change in position, as they gave a quick exchange of undivided concern to Rachel. But each knew they were not alone in making a brisk decision to follow that concern, if it was needed.

Rachel looked up at them, with slight discomfort, but there came that companied look. "I went to an early morning breakfast with an old friend and her husband. I came home around ten, saw Bridgett's black purse was still sitting on the stand by the door."

"Did she usually leave her purse there, by the door?" Brass inquired, then added the information that he had acquired before into his notebook.

She shook her head. "No, I thought maybe she had come home for awhile after taking the kid's to school" Rachel looked sadly at a framed picture of her niece that hung on wall. "She only leaves it there if she has parked the car in the driveway, and she's here for a little while."

Jim arched a brow at her remark, then settled with the pen still in hand ."Like when you want a little peace and quiet?"

-----

Her daughter's face held in her mind, as she grasped the rose tighter into hand, then grabbed her umbrella on the floor of the passenger's side. As she did, a gold necklace with two hearts on it made itself known to the eye.

The smaller heart held to the right side of the bigger one; that held as a foundation. Beautiful golden wings were attached to the larger heart, while two children, one framed in between the two hearts reached out her hand to the one sat happily on the larger heart.

Catherine sat up against the seat, and instantly recognized the presence of the gold necklace—the details of the necklace filled her mind, as she bundled up her coat tightly and opened her door once more. The wind stirring in the air, hit mildly against the side of her face, as she set her foot against the wet black asphalt of the parking lot.

Her daughter's face held in her mind, as she grasped the rose tighter into hand, then grabbed her umbrella on the floor of the passenger's side. As she did, a gold necklace with two hearts on it made itself known to the eye.

The smaller heart held to the right side of the bigger one; that held as a foundation. Beautiful golden wings were attached to the larger heart, while two children, one framed in between the two hearts reached out her hand to the one sat happily on the larger heart.

Catherine sat up against the seat, and instantly recognized the presence of the gold necklace—the details of the necklace filled her mind, as she bundled up her coat tightly and opened her door once more. The wind stirring in the air, hit mildly against the side of her face, as she set her foot against the wet black asphalt of the parking lot.

Without warning, every detail of a very haunting December night filled her mind. And for the last four years and three months, in some way she had always felt she was trapped in that day, over and over again—three days before Christmas, injured quite badly, as was her family, who laid upside down in an overturned car.

Her body shuttered beneath her coat and gloves, as she closed the door to her black Denali. Her fingers ached within as her mind flashed back to the damaged car—shattered windshield, and inflated airbags in the front—as well as different scattered items, one in particular that caught her eye was a drawing that her two daughters had drawn somewhere along the way. The girl's fun filled ways to keep themselves busy during the trip to her mother's house, had give much laughter—but had been short lived, as the collision from moments ago subsided slightly to a now very quiet car.

Silence—was all she heard, when her heart ached to determine any noise, anything that might calm the wild beating that pulsated against her chest. But as he head cautiously turned towards the driver's seat where her husband Eddie unconscious body hung limply, despite his prolonged hold to the steering wheel, she had to choke down the fear that was starting to overwhelm her noticeably wounded body.

"Eddie" Her voice came out weak and scared, as she did not know where to balance the fear that lay inside of her as reached out her left arm—that was trembling by the impact, but was still being stretched out as far as it could. And when she had reached as far as her limb would allow, that's when she realized she was still confined by the safety of her seatbelt.

But it didn't take her long to feel the searing pain throughout her body as she carefully unlocked herself from the hold, and freed her tired body. Then dragged herself between the two seat, as she levered herself to stand up, and posed in a half lean so she could check her husband's pulse, that was slow, but to her relief, he was still there.

The only thing she feared now, as she walked every step with discomfort to the back of the car. Her ears keenly picking up voices from above, as she searched through the darkness, her hands finally reached her youngest daughter first. 

Her hand ran blindly over her cheek, which was still somewhat warm to the touch. It even took a moment but her daughter's green blue eyes stirred from their slumber—and the loving touch of her mother, the little girl was receptive and pressed her cheek harder against her hand, which told Catherine that she was also holding on. "Me—" The little girl mumbled quietly, and pointed weakly to herself.

"Yes, baby. You." Catherine brushed back a piece of her two-year old daughter's hair. "You're going to be alright" She reassured her, as she carefully unhooked her with a struggle and pulled her out of her seat, being cautious of her neck and small body. "I need you to do something for me though" Her daughter's eyes lit up, as she lowered her to the hood of the car. She blinked, without a word. Catherine couldn't help letting a small smile fall upon her lips, despite the panic she was trying to hide. Even though Lindsey was nowhere in sight, her husband was still unconscious and hanging upside down, and she heard sirens somewhere in the distance, which gave her hope that somebody was coming, somebody was going to help them—and they were going to be okay

She turned back to her daughter, who was still looking at her with the same expression that she saw often, the look that asked 'What is it mommy?" Catherine gave what she knew was not a smile but something she could muster, without giving her worry away—as her heart jumped hearing people yelling in the distance. And it took all her focus just to face her daughter's innocent expression, and to continue. "I need you to lay here, but you can't move" The last part was suppose to seem serious, and it was—but instead her tone seemed to come out like they were just playing a game. Heavens—if only they were.

Because never had she prepared herself for something this extreme, and as a mother, with two young daughter's she couldn't shake the undermining feeling as she stood up, and made her way to the very back of their white Explorer. Something was not right, and between trying to hold on to the voices that were slowly getting nearer, and pushing her pain aside, she called her daughter's name. "Lindsey" She choked, her eyes searching for any movement, any direction of voice. "If you can hear me--" She stopped and listened, but only heard footsteps, she was sure were very close now. 

Wait. Patience. Listen. "Katie stay with me baby" She heard the slight movement behind her, and the tension released slightly. "Why don't you sing you're favorite song for me" Listen. Please.

"Mommy" It took a moment before her words registered to Catherine's ears, but she had definitely heard her—and both let out a sob of joy, as well as Katie who had started singing 'Twinkle Twinkle Little Star' the song they all sang together, every night.

"Lindsey" Her name came out in a soft whisper, in a way you could feel her small smile that lit up the darkness as she leaned heavily against the seat, and lowered herself carefully to the side of her daughter's feet. Her hand strived to keep her daughter from moving as she felt her small body contract. "Baby, I need you to stay still"

"Mommy" Lindsey's voice was worn, but eager. "No, I got out" Catherine arched a brow in confusion. The pain in her own body was starting to weigh down on her, as it made itself better known for the strenuous actions she had take for her family, this night. So maybe it was only her that was not understanding what her daughter was trying to tell her. "Unbuckled--" One word finished her daughter's explanation, and then everything clicked.

She was trying to tell her mother that she had gotten out on her own, by unbuckling herself. Catherine opened her mouth to say something but only got half way before another voice interrupted them, followed by a frantic knock at the window.

Catherine turned around as quickly as she could, her eyes focusing on the frosty glass before her, as she made out a figure with shaggy light brown hair, and green eyes. "Is everybody alright?" Came a muffled concern, from a complete stranger. 

"Please, my husband is still in the driver's seat" Her hand shakily went to the side of her forehead as she shook off the pending dizziness. The concern grew in the man's face, as she stole a quick glance before he disappeared out of sight, and the reappeared after scratchily opening up the passenger side door.

As a roll of thunder rumbled through the darkened atmosphere, she shook her head from the thoughts that brought her back to the present—and Catherine found herself placing the small rose in a small capsule in the grave. Her thoughts lingering on this as she closed the lid back up, 'I lost him now, when I could have lost him then'

----

"Eight forty--five" Rachel finished, rubbing the side of her cheek tiredly with her hand, and exhaled.  
"Carrie and Noah were just in town for a couple days" Her eyes welled up with tears, as she rubbed her fingers through her hair.

He nodded sympathetically. "The friends you were with—" An immediate nod confirmed. "What happened next?"

"I took my shoes off. I knew Bridgett would tell me to take them off anyway, and I closed the front door" She bit back a bitter laugh, as she turned and gazed at the brown boots that were sitting near the right side of the door.

"The boots over there?" Jim inquired, pointing with his pen over her left shoulder. Rachel gave a half twist of her body. Her eyes gently pressed towards the boots as she gave a simple nod.

As he nodded, he inhaled a faint lemon scent, and turned to Sara. "Smell that? " He wrinkled his nose slightly.

Sara leaned forward and inhaled, before recognizing the smell that wafted through her senses. "Yeah, lemon oil?"

Jim arched a brow, clearly intrigued. Maybe a cover up of some sort? Both turned back towards Rachel who furrowed her brows, deep in consideration. A small complacent look, she stared at the wood floor, her mind deep in thought. He exhaled deeply—knowing this was going to be a long night. "Rachel when's the last time this floor was oiled?"

She opened her mouth immediately, in response. "Bridgett always had some lady oil the floors for her. So Bridgett could spend as much time with the kids as she could, when she wasn't working, and they weren't in school" Rachel briefly pulled back a stray hair behind her ear.

"Did this lady happen to come by today?" Jim inquired, turning the page of his notebook.

Rachel hesitated for a moment. "Somebody showed up just as I was about to leave. It could have been her. Bridgett was telling me yesterday about this lady she has come every few weeks and oil the floor, as well as do some simple tasks around the house."

"Like what kind of tasks?" He asked curiously, with his pen ready in motion.

"Dusting mostly, Bridgett didn't want to take the risk of being up in high places, but she knew it had to be done. I have allergies or I would be have accepted to do it, but instead I had to find an alternative of helping around here"

He nodded and pressed gently. "So this lady, does she have a name?"

"Yeah, all I know is she goes by Ria" Rachel sniffed, and rubbed the end of her nose, before putting her hand back to her side.

There was a slight pause between them, which Sara used to her advantage. "Okay, did Ria have access to everywhere in the house, or just specific areas?"

"Just on the main level-- occasionally she would dust the banister leading up the stairs, but Bridgett mostly stayed by her side, talking to her." Rachel folded her arms casually over one another. "As the kids got older, it got harder to get them to do certain things, and in the coming months with a new arrival on the way" She swallowed and her voice wavered, then leveled. "Bridgett wanted things to be perfect."

-----

Catherine stood up, and started walking back to the car before she turned around. "Take care of her Eddie" And with that she turned, her eyes gazing in the distance at a man in a yellow raincoat, kneeling in front of a grave, probably of a loved one.

Raindrops fell upon her umbrella, then down the sides as she turned and quickly walked back to her car, and opened the door before safely stepping in. Her coat was donned with clear drops of rain that quickly evaporated as soon as the heat had started to make its course throughout the car. Her fingers gently fell upon the lock button on the side door as she pushed it forward, her ears quickly echoing the locking motion as she embraced the heat hitting her body once more.

The umbrella still in her lap, she placed it roughly back on the floor of the passenger's seat, and her hands firmly grasped the steering wheel, as her eyes fell upon the silver watch that hugged tightly around her wrist.

Matching silver hands signaled almost a quarter to four, which left her about an hour to go before she was able to return back to work. Three days later of course--although she would have been back sooner but Gil stayed firm to his ground about her taking some leave.

Despite her usual charm, she had reasoned three days--instead of a week. And even when he hadn't settled for her deal at first glance, she knew he would be thinking about it fully, as she walked out the door of his office.

She leaned her back against the tan leather chair of the driver's seat, and exhaled deeply as she closed her eyes. Her mind wandered back in time when she had settled letting her father watch Lindsey that night she went to have 'a talk' with Gil.

She had tried to keep her focus straight despite the cloudiness that fogged her mind at the time.

Using choice words, she had ushered Lindsey into the richness of her father's house. Lindsey knew as soon as she entered that she was to be on her best behavior.

And although Catherine knew both her and her father were not in the best terms, she knew this was no time to argue with him, the figure who stood before them in the middle of the night, as compassion filled his heart, seeing his only daughter and granddaughter.

----

"A symbol of love used as a warning sign" Nick indicated as they stepped into the break room, and he stepped to the side as he opened the cabinet and grabbed a coffee cup.

"Whoever put those wedding rings in Jack Malone's stomach, apparently knew what they were doing" Warrick offered, placing his hands on the counter, his fingers tapping along the edge, in a rhythmic motion.

Nick nodded as he poured himself some coffee, about half full as they continued with the discussion. His brows arched as he turned around, his hand wrapped around the handle of the cup. "Jack works as a spotless business man, and evidently has a clean house as well"

Warrick nodded—but he had his own suspicions about the house—as he opened another cabinet door, and took out a small plate, then rummaged through the small white refrigerator, until he found what he was looking for. "The house must have already been clean enough that nothing looked out of the ordinary"

With a ding, Nick tapped the spoon on the side of his cup. "To them maybe" He took a sip, his features filled with warmth and delight. "What about the wife?"

Warrick's brow rose, as he poured the contents of beef stew into the bowl. "Practical" He added, placing the used Tupperware into the sink.


	5. Broken Horizon

Chapter Five: Broken Horizon

Catherine mindfully checked her watch—the hands on the clock ticking on beat with the clicking of her shoes—as she walked down the white and gray colored tile of the Las Vegas Crime Lab. Her eyes edged beyond the blue gray walls, as she comprehended the familiar sounds of the building.

Files strewn or stacked across various desks as she passed, reminded her of her own—even settled her into a comfort that she could bury her limits in, and at least for a little while she could breathe without other's concerns. Be able to collect her thoughts, without blame and anguish of what was, or what could have been. Her daughter was her life now, and her work would never replace any part of that love.

She exhaled, rubbing the left side of her forehead, as she walked past the break room and down the hall to her office. Catherine knew her daughter hardly saw her, through the long hours that she worked. Now only if Lindsey knew the time she spent away from her was only what she did so they could survive.

Arching a brow, she sighed as she opened the door to her office. Besides the light that flooded in from the hall, a small light in the corner lit up the darkened room, casting an eerie but consoling shadow, as her eyes scanned over her desk.

There in the middle was a gold lamp, and a small stack of files. In the corner was her computer, the mouse pad her daughter had given her as a present, sat underneath the wireless mouse nearby. Various pictures of Lindsey were framed, and set in clear view on the desk.

Closing the door to her office, she took one frame, particularly her favorite into hand. She smiled warmly seeing both daughter with a white milkshake mustache, as they faced the other and laughed.

Catherine remembered that summer day had been hot, and they stopped to get milkshakes to cool themselves off on their way home from the fair. Lindsey had gotten just a plain vanilla one, while she had a small chocolate shake, and Eddie had gotten raspberry.

As soon as Eddie had handed Lindsey her shake, she dodged right into it before they could pick out a table. Before they knew it, she had gotten vanilla all over her upper and lower lips. They had wiped off most of it as soon as they had sat down, but Eddie insisted not to wipe off her upper lip just yet, because he wanted to take a picture.

She agreed and he took her picture with the camera before Lindsey insisted that her mother join her. Eddie was laughing as he joined in with Lindsey's pleadings. 'Yeah momma, please'. He reiterated—but all Catherine could do was roll her eyes and laugh, before finally giving in.

But when the picture had been developed, it turned out to be one of Catherine's favorites.

----

Both exchanged looks. That was a new piece of information they didn't know. "New arrival? So your sister was expecting?"

Rachel eyes darted back towards them. She as well had been excited for the new arrival, and couldn't been happier for her sister and brother-in-law. The days of Bridgett not feeling well, and not quite on target like she would have liked to have been, came in the form of relief and a surprise for her family. "Seven months today" She answered quietly, her mind unwrapping the pain of the questions asked.

And although she understood why they would have asked some of these questions, she didn't get how they were leading them any closer to her family's killings, or to where her nephew who was still possible alive, and out there somewhere.

Jim noted the look, and knew he had seen it many times. Every question asked, he knew, was like ripping a paper to shreds—even though it was her heart that was really being ripped out.

He knew it was hard for Rachel to just stand here and to feel helpless, while they asked questions that didn't seem to be getting them anywhere, or to the point that they wanted to be. "Thank you, we'll be in touch." He offered in a heartfelt sympathetic tone. And nothing more, as he could make no promise or guarantee that she could find comfort in what she had lost, or found.

------

"Found a phone charger, book, a bag of cheerios, and a car seat, in Jack Malone's car." Greg put bluntly, of his findings.

"But no phone." Warrick added, placing his bowl in the sink.

"No phone, but I did find a crumpled up paper stuffed underneath the passenger's seat." Greg arched a brow, as he placed a wrinkled paper, which had been placed in an evidence bag, onto the counter. "Smith, Malone, and Jackson law firm." He didn't have to say that twice.

Warrick looked back, as Nick looked up in interest, "Now we could be getting somewhere"

Greg nodded, eyes twinkling with insight, "Looks like young Jack was just about to be something more than just a lawyer."

Both stopped, and stepped over. "He's taking over the firm" Warrick spoke up first, as they all took interest to the half-crumpled paper.

Nick moved back slightly," By the looks of it, Smith owns the firm" He eyed the scribbled signature at the bottom of the page, then noticed the printed name, Alex Smith, underneath.

"A law firm now being given to Malone" Greg chimed in, leaning against the doorframe.

"Which leaves Jackson." Warrick advanced on the situation. "What about the dirt we found in the house?" He turned towards Greg, in speculation.

"Found traces of rubber, from off the bottom of a shoe" He offered, "The dirt in the front yard that I took from the front garden that I compared to the dirt found inside, matched. Also, I compared the footprint found outside, to several of the footprints, inside. They were both a definite match." Greg added quickly.

"So whoever was there, was watching beforehand. " Warrick added, as he walked back over to the sink and rinsed his plate off. "And they probably have a torn up shoe."

"In addition, the evidence." Nick finished, with a smirk.

-----

No matter how much Catherine didn't want to accept him, or to give up the painful memories, in all the complicated webs there were in this world, she still loved him—and no matter how long she kept those things secret and bottled in, it would always be hers.

She placed the frame back on the desk, and went around and sat down in her chair. Reaching her hand up she turned on the lamp, which set a little more light into the room. She shook her head lightly, and grabbed a file from the pile, prying it open gently.

In silence, she went over details of the case tying up loose ends, and recorded last minute findings. Then set aside the file, for return in a new pile on the other side of the desk, while her hand then picked up the next file present, she repeated the process, and set that file on top of the other.

Running her thumb, and index finger over her forehead, a profound smile came over her face. Her hand lingered over the receding pile, as she grasped another file and set it in front of her.

Rounding around, she grasped the remote. Her thumb reaching at the gray button, lit up the black CD player behind her, into motion.

With her index finger pushing at the play button, set the music playing—filling the air with no longer silence, but with the sounds of Snow Patrol. Yet it was unusual for her to find comfort in music, even though today it seemed to reassure her of something more.

And as the words of the lyrics played in the background that adjusted to the atmosphere, Catherine turned back towards her desk and opened the next file, as the words parted through the air.

_Shut your eyes and think of somewhere _

_Somewhere cold and caked in snow_

_By the fire we break the quiet_

_And learn to wear eachother well_

_And when the worrying starts to hurt_

_And the world feels like graves of dirt_

_Just close your eyes until_

_You can imagine this place_

_Yeah our secret space at will_

_Shut your eyes I'll spin the big chair_

_And you'll feel dizzy light and free_

_And falling gently on the cushion_

_You can come and sing to me_

_Shut your eyes and sing to me._

As silence filled the room and the song ended, she let her eyes shut, as she leaned against the palms of her hand—her elbows resting upon the desk for support. She felt herself drifting off, but found the light from the lamp the only thing that she was still keeping her from sleep.

Yet she still found herself drifting, with her eyes still closed—her energy low, from lack of sleep. Her body swayed, in effort to balance her upward motion, the music gradually distancing, as the light seemed to fall deeper, and her dreams poised into consciousness.

Her body felt light, and carefree. Words slipped into mind, but tarried inside. Control seemed to extend to a pause, motions lightly came.

----

"It's really pouring now" Sara commented, as Gil walked into the break room, and went straight over to the full coffeepot, before opening the cupboard above and grabbed himself a nice mug.

Gil arched his brow and chuckled softly, as he gazed over at her, while her brown eyes stared at the rain drizzling down upon the building's windows. His eyes went from the curvy patterns as the rain fell briskly out of view, back on to her as he nodded. "We know one thing it's good for though --" He added, looking from the corner of his eye, and gripped his hand tightly around the handle of the pot, while holding the cup with his other hand.

She took her gaze off of the window and smirked, before she had even established her attention upon him. Her brow arched in interest as her smirk turned into a soft smile, as she now saw one steaming mug of coffee in a navy blue mug sitting securely on top of the white countertop, while he retrieved another mug from the cupboard.

Her gaze seemed to hold him fixated as he carefully pulled out an Indian red, colored mug; in fact such a beautiful color for such a gloomy and well started day. Only to say it really hadn't started that well, and now well—it was raining, and it had been a long day—a very long day.

So even after uncomprehendingly gazing in her direction, his eyes swimming deep in her chocolate brown eyes, he could see her focus drowning out the rain that drummed rhythmically against the window, as they stared at him, then broke to look at her empty hands that sat in her lap.

He used this brief moment to pour the other cup of coffee, then walked over and handed it to her as she broke away her sudden gaze upon on the wall. She looked at him with small smile and a thank you, as she took cup graciously into hand.

"I needed this" She gestured to the cup, then took a sip, and the room became silent again; beside the pitter-patter sound of the rain, and the few people that were still here in the lab, relaying off important information to one another.

"Knew you would" He smirked, then went back over to the counter and took a sip of his own coffee. Casting his glances here and there towards her tired frame, and knew very well behind the comfort of the couch; legs drawn in towards her body, hands wrapped around the steaming cup, her eyes again gazing out the rain casted window, definitely told him something was on her mind.

He drew a seat comfortably on the small couch horizontally from her, while they dwelled in the silence. He found himself staring out the window, as he drank soft sips of coffee-- his mind compressing over the crime scene, and evidence, besides some other things that happened to come up somewhere along the way.

She let the cup rest in her lap, "Grissom--" Her senses registering on the cinnamon swirl taste. Her tongue clicked against the roof of her mouth, her brown eye squared in question.

Along with her tone assumed, in question, he turned his view away from the frosted window. His breath deeply consumed in a feathered fog, where he had been dwelling. His eyes looked up at her in thought "Sara" He responded, putting one hand underneath his cup.

She paused for a moment. "Get to the coffee pot before Greg?" She quipped lightly, with a smile

"Wouldn't dream of it" He answered back casually, his eye catching the falling rain outside the window.

----

Picking up the files from off her desk, she made her way out into the hall—manila files thrown into one messy pile with her hands wrapped around them. In her broken manner, she couldn't help picturing what would happen if she did drop them, and she held on tighter, as the clicking of her heels echoed past the white walls, and tile floors.

"Catherine!" Her eyes closed, as her grip loosened slightly on the files, she could feel them slipping from her grasp, so she shifted them farther into her arm when she turned around. "Hey" She could feel the concern in the tone of his voice-- her gaze falling right into check with Warrick Brown.

"Hey yourself" She answered steadily, arching a brow. As she didn't already know that the world evolved in little circles, she wouldn't have to ask where this conversation was going.

He shifted, noticing the full load of files in arm. "You alright with those?" He gestured to some of the files.

"Yeah, I was just finishing up—and about to put these on Grissom's desk" She reflected, walking aimlessly closer to Gil's open door. "How's your case going?" She inquired, diverting the situation as she walked into the office they all knew too well.

Warrick arched a brow, and exhaled. "Its going" He leaned against the doorframe, as she set the files down with a light thud, "Catherine," He began, as she readjusted one of the files that had slipped out of the pile. After she turned around, her expression filled with a quiet challenge, he inquired "You had dinner yet?"

She shook her head, her strawberry blonde hair falling over her shoulders "If you count one of the granola bars that I stuck in my mouth tonight--" She parted with a smirk, "I would tell you no" She walked out of the office, with him following behind.

"I have a few questions on the case--" He clarified as he walked to the side of her, "We're in need of some woman intuition" He admitted adamantly, because sooner or later she would realize what he was doing, but maybe she could help.

She paused abruptly, with a smirk, as she was trying desperately not to laugh. "What I would pay to hear you say that again" Catherine left it at that as she walked back into her office. She grabbed her coat off of her chair, and shook her head.

"I bet you would" He said quietly, "How's Lindsey?" His smile faded slightly as he watched her soft demeanor alter, at the same time she adjusted her coat over her slender frame.

She wrapped her coat tightly around her, her arm holding firmly around her waist as she gave a slight shiver. "She's with my sister" Catherine added firmly as she buttoned up her coat. "Now mind explaining to me why you're dying to get me on this case?" She inquired gingerly.

His eyes flickered, "Twenty-six year old male found in the living room of his home…"

----

"Ever realize your life has just changed?" Sara perceived, taking another sip of her coffee. The rain was now at a drizzling swiftness that fell shortly upon the wet asphalt outside the window.

He looked up at her in wonderment "All the time" He gave her a slight smile as he stood up and put his mug into the sink. She gave her own sinking grin as she watched him rinse his mug out quickly with one swish.

She nodded as she took one nervous sip, then let the mug rest on her leg again. "I think…" She paused, then stopped as she sighed in frustration. This was harder than she thought. _And where the heck was Catherine when you needed her? Ah, never mind. _

Sara's sudden delay of words caught his attention. He looked back at her, noting her staring into the dwindling hot liquid. So he set the cup back into the sink, wiping his hands aimlessly onto the towel before stepping forward.

His scent caught in the back of her throat, and she looked up. She swallowed and with defying eyes she spoke these words, "I think I'm pregnant"

Gil couldn't help noticing the bewildered look that was creeping upon his face. They had been so careful—maybe not careful enough. "Are you sure?"

She shook her head, and stood up and walked over to the sink just as he sat down. She gave a revolting look to no one in particular, and poured the rest of her coffee down the drain. It wasn't like she didn't like it. The coffee was perfect in it's own way—she just had never thought of the fact that she shouldn't be drinking it if she was in fact pregnant.

Sara turned around, and leaned against the counter. "I don't even know where to start"


End file.
